I feel so guilty when I soak myself in the finery of Hollywood classroom experience. Its Sheraton hotels they call school! the shine of enamel glittering all over, the golden doorknobs and CLEAN GLASS windows.
For Chrissakes don’t take this screen away, it’s just like tying my baby thumb over with ewuro (bitter leaf) while the milk of it still commands fever desire. Who does that! tell me not to self-indulge, you bet it am going to over-indulge. Telling me reality always dawns, yea! I know it does but I don’t see Obama giving me an American dream doorway into the U.S of A so I am stuck here.
A stinging slap across the mouth leaves me splattering mouth juice on the slapping palm and a bit on his shirt 🙂 yep that earns me another! That is one of the strongest memories of junior secondary I have. The bully learning process, oh it works alright. Next time food was served in the boarding house dinning “galleria” I would wait for the prayers to be said. We fed like inmates, guarded by the house masters and our crazy matron. No, it was not the matron who slapped me, it was a family friend turned bully who would smack us silly after our guardians left the school yard. He had one of the most annoying hypocriticysing nature, always wearing sheep-smile mask when we was home for holidays yet he would gladly whip my brother to show his friends how tough he was. Well we learnt.
This same strategy is the system upon which the “rock foundation” of the Nigerian royal academy for A-Class teachers was built. No, there is no school like that in Nigeria. I mentioned HELL Mr. Benjamin earlier; yes he battered academia up our sore butts. We have some things called “pankere” in Nigeria, Bamboo canes, Benjamin was built for the bulls and red flag circus or Mike Tyson tournaments. I wonder how such visual threats got teaching jobs. Apparently he adored his yellow skin which of cause is just dirty fair compared to the American (white as it should be seen) rich ebony is what the African Sun deserves, he also ironically had the Mecca golden tooth in his Benjamite mouth. The terror such teachers wielded with their Pankere trained hands was enough to tutor Satan in the way of the Lord.
One Mr. Omotosho had smacked me straight in the middle of the butt in a stooping position (punishment style: touching your toes for hours), I felt the pain first in the peak center of my skull. I heard only white noise when Mr. Titus soaked Pankere in cold water one early harmattan morning and dished out severe beatings to our behinds. Those who know harmattan would dread that, the list is endless. Education cannot be tortured into the mind, you only enslave with the truth. You shall know the truth and it will set you free from a Lie, who sets us free now when we have been barbed with thorns of truths.
As much as I love to teach people for the sheer Joy of seeing them happy after they exclaim in jubilation it has not been that easy with the oldies I am teaching at Ogbomosho, Baptist Seminary. I feel guilty knowing that we have just a class to go, I am still wondering why I feel unfulfilled but I can only connect it to the fact that I still see my students encounter such difficulties in achieving some little work exercises on the computer. Considering the pay I should not have this feeling, at least not guilt but there it is. This is what I will call the Nigerian Teacher’s dilemma, you are been wacked over by the government or proprietor yet you won’t let this block-head kids go without getting them a learning. This is where our strength of character and ideals are put to the test, a teacher is out front not for the power he wields but for the fear that a generation may die away ignorant.
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